Preconceived Notions
by MaddieStJ
Summary: A rendezvous for a security materials hand-off goes wrong and two organizations come face to face. Can they work together?
1. It was a Dark and Stormy Night

Disclaimer: I don't own them, more's the pity. However, I can do what I want to make them to serve my purpose.  
  
The characters of E.J. "Nola" Santiago, D.L "Xochi" Rodriguez, Nia Santiago, Juan Santiago, Enrique Santiago, Roberto Santiago, Marco Santiago, Guillermo Santiago, Miguel Santiago, Ana Santiago, Monalisa, The Twins, Dave, Bob, Dina, Ruben, Max, The Boys, Larry, Sadie, and the nameless, faceless other worker bees in the story are products of my fertile imagination.  
  
Many thanks to Tikatu for the insights, character loan, assists, hours of clowning around and the beta business. Rubber Duckys Rule!!  
  
Preconceived Notions  
  
* Indicates thinking*  
  
Prologue - It Was A Dark and Stormy Night  
  
One hour ago.  
  
The two figures ran toward two separate cars, started them up, pulled out of the garage, and set off in two separate directions. The same thought ran through both of their minds. *We've got to reach the drop off point in time*. Car 1 turned left and headed toward Ocean Beach, Car 2 right, toward the Marina. As each car left the garage from two different exits, they were both followed. Halfway to their destinations, both cars turned around and headed back downtown to the original rendezvous.  
  
They had both already noticed they were being followed. *Oh well, no good for it now. It should be getting dark soon. I'll just have to lose them in the city. *  
  
45 minutes ago - Car 1  
  
Dave, in Car 1, made a sharp right turn from Franklin onto Francisco, a left on VanNess running a red light and a right on Northpoint. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he noted that his pursuer was still with him.  
  
'He's good, but not good enough', thought Dave.  
  
Turning right onto Columbus, he mentally reviewed several scenarios for shaking his pursuer. Finally deciding what to do, Dave turned right onto Taylor and proceeded up toward Nob Hill. It began to rain.  
  
Cresting the hill at California, Dave made his move by simply turning left and swerving around two cable cars, three limos, two tour buses and cutting off a taxi by running the red and pulling onto the entrance dais of the Mark Hopkins hotel. Lining up with other cars, he scrunched down into the seat, pulled out his cell and called Bob in Car 2.  
  
The rain was picking up.  
  
45 minutes ago - Car 2  
  
It was beginning to rain.  
  
Bob, in Car 2, made a sharp left from Fulton and entered Golden Gate Park at 36th Avenue. Passing the duck pond, he used the turnaround and headed back down JFK Drive. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he noted that his pursuer was still with him.  
  
*He's good, but not good enough. I bike through here everyday *, mused Bob.  
  
Proceeding at a rapid clip, he mentally reviewed several scenarios for shaking his pursuer. Finally decided what to do, Bob turned right into the area at 8th Avenue that holds the museums. * Let's see, let's see. Ah.*  
  
Turning right, then left, he began to work through the construction maze that was everyone's nightmare since it concerned both the underground parking garage and the new transit stations. Aware he was still being followed, Bob realized where he was, what time it was and smiled. *Wait for it, wait for it.*  
  
As he knew it would, a large forklift and a digger both began to pull out of the street, and the construction crewman was just about to flag cars down to stop and wait for the equipment to lumber over to the side and park, when Bob sped up and swerved around everything, made a left at the end of the road, and a right back onto JFK.  
  
Emerging out onto Oak, his cell began to ring. The rain was picking up and now the wind seemed to be getting into the picture. He turned off Oak onto Market Street.  
  
20 minutes ago.  
  
Dave and Bob had formulated a plan. Dave parked the car in the Sutter Stockton Garage and caught the bus to Market. Crossing the street, he walked down Fourth, went into the Marriott hotel and spoke to the Concierge. He came out and chatted up the doorman in front of the hotel.  
  
15 minutes ago.  
  
Bob pulled up and Dave got into the car. They proceeded along Fourth to the South of Market area.  
  
"I think if we go past the train station and over the small bridge, we can still lose anyone that's following us. We're into commute time now. People are going home from work," stated Dave.  
  
I hope so. It's too dark to see if we're still being followed. Let's hurry up and get this over with," sighed Bob.  
  
They continued on down Fourth and made a left at the junction of Third Street. Neither Bob nor Dave was aware of a third car that had been trailing Bob since he left the Marriott.  
  
7 minutes ago.  
  
Approaching the Piers, both men began to look for Pier 35. They'd had to slow down due to the traffic congestion as well as the rain increasing and the wind picking up.  
  
"Man, this winter weather. This is beginning to look like a bad storm."  
  
Dave looked at the dashboard clock. "Look at the time. We'll never make it. This traffic is horrible and these drivers.Omigawd!!! Bob!!!! Look out!!!"  
  
Bob, who had been eyeballing the car in front of him, who seemed to be driving rather erratically, glanced over to where Dave was pointing. He also glanced in the rearview mirror and in a split second realized they were surrounded on three sides and slowly but surely being herded toward one of the open docks.  
  
"This is way out of control. We need some serious assistance, but no one can get through because of the traffic. Dina!"  
  
"What can I do for you boys?" asked a deep-throated Jamaican accented female voice. Speaking to the on board computer communications systems, they informed her of their problem, where they were and what had gone on before.  
  
Now.  
  
"The Big Cheeses along with the twins are on the way there, try to hang on, I'll keep talking to you. Shit! Was that a gunshot?"  
  
"Yes, Dina, it was. Dave, you know we're on the straightaway and there's no ."  
  
A loud popping noise and glass breaking made Dave look over just in time to see Bob slump over the steering wheel. The car was now being herded toward the edge of the docks.  
  
Frantically, Dave tried to pry Bob's hands from the wheel and turn the car. He failed to notice the car behind them had dropped back, but realized that this simple rendezvous had turned deadly when he was rammed from the back and pushed into some large oil drums.  
  
The car caught on fire, the airbags deployed and Dave was trapped in the vehicle when it exploded into the night, setting the dock, a couple of dockside structures and Pier 35 ablaze. 


	2. A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight

Disclaimer: I don't own them, more's the pity. However, I can do what I want to make them to serve my purpose.  
  
The characters of E.J. "Nola" Santiago, D.L "Xochi" Rodriguez, Nia Santiago, Juan Santiago, Enrique Santiago, Roberto Santiago, Marco Santiago, Guillermo Santiago, Miguel Santiago, Ana Santiago, Amaya Charleton, Tasha Gibson, Sipea Webb, Monalisa, The Twins, Dave, Bob, Dina, Ruben, Max, The Boys, Larry, Sadie, and the nameless, faceless other worker bees in the story are products of my fertile imagination.  
  
Many thanks to Tikatu for the insights, character loan, assists, hours of clowning around and the beta business. The Triumvirate Rules!!  
  
Chapter Two - Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight  
  
"Jesus H. Christ!!" "What the hell..?"  
  
Archie Moran and Tom Pelansky just stood there, openmouthed. They were waiting under the shelter for the streetcar to take them back home. The extremely loud noise and subsequent fireball had caught, not only their attention, but the attention of everyone on that section of the Embarcadero. For a moment, everything seemed frozen in time. Then reality kicked in and people began to panic. Cars were trying to move out of the way, but since it was rush hour, they had nowhere to go. Pedestrians ran in every direction. It was nothing but chaos.  
  
The four police officers from the Department of Parking and Traffic who had been directing traffic just stared for a minute. After being jostled by several people, the officers snapped to and took control. One called 911, gave instructions to call in Police, Fire, and Coast Guard rescue. She realized that during commute hours the ferries were busy bringing people to the Port and picking up people to go home to Marin, Oakland, Alameda, and Vallejo. She also told them to contact Muni for a change over from electric buses to gas and reroute the lines so that no public transportation vehicles went through the Embarcadero. Another called for some more DPT backup so they could clear up the traffic situation and make way for the Fire Department. While this was happening, the other two started the long and arduous process of rerouting all the commute traffic. It was 5:39 pm.  
  
Fire trucks from Station 1 on Howard Street were the first to arrive and began coordinating the process and handing out assignments while waiting for other companies and the Fire Chief to arrive. The rain was pouring down steadily and the wind whipped people and anything not anchored down around.  
  
Upon arrival at the car driven by Bob and Dave, the firefighters realized immediately the "Jaws of Life" were useless. The car was just...burning up and so were the people inside.  
  
"We can't get close," yelled one firefighter, turning around.  
  
"Get back here!" yelled onsite coordinator Sipea Webb. She was looking a handheld that contained the manifest for Pier 35. "You need to get into the fire retardant HazMat suits. The stuff in those drums is toxic and the pier building has more flammables and chemicals in it as well."  
  
A gust of wind came up and almost knocked her to her knees. 'Damn. This is gonna be ugly.' Realizing that in this kind of winter storm, the rain and wind would only get worse, she directed everyone to put on their hands-free communications devices and made sure everyone was linked up. Once everyone had checked in, they all realized they'd be lucky to get to see their beds by midnight.  
  
Someone tapped Sipea on the shoulder. She wheeled around and saw her Police counterpart, Tasha Gibson.  
  
"What have we got?" she asked. Sipea looked down at the manifest on her handheld, pressed a button and split the screen showing the notes she'd made.  
  
"DPT reports the car that's on fire was forced off the street and into the drums. Drums contain toxics. Force of impact ignited the toxics and set off a chain reaction lighting those docking structures, the dock and Pier 35 on fire. DPT called 911. All emergency vehicles that could get through have for the moment."  
  
She took a deep breath and looked at her friend. "You need to call the coroner and get a forensics team down here for later. Seems there were two people in the car. The Coast Guard... hold on a minute..." She cocked her head to the side and listened for a minute.  
  
"Okay, I've got that. I'll relay that on." She again looked at Tasha who had been dictating into her own handheld and looking at some schematics. "Stations 17, 29, 41 and 37 are on the way. They're going to use the new thermal imaging system that's hooked to the GPS to see if there are any people inside Pier 35. Do you guys have that hooked up?"  
  
Tasha shook her head, "No, not yet." Looking over to her right, she saw that DPT was making headway redirecting traffic. It was slow but steady.  
  
Sipea continued her report. "The Coast Guard will have all ferries dock on the other end at Pier 41. We need manpower from you guys on the bikes and in the black and whites to deal with the pedestrians, especially the moronic ones with the camcorders. We're gonna have enough on our hands with the media, without having to deal with some fool who wants his footage on the 11 o'clock news. Also, how are you coming with the street closures?"  
  
Tasha consulted her handheld. "We're going to close traffic off at Drumm and Market, reroute traffic along Beale and put folks on the bridge at First and Harrison and Harrison and Essex. We've already spoken to the Highway Patrol and they're gonna handle the bridge situation. We're also closing traffic at Broadway and Washington. Once we get this together, we'll have Beale be the end and create a square area of the city we can work in down here. Muni has already instituted the changeover to gas buses and won't let buses come down past First Street. Thank God it's only a fire, and you know what I mean by that; if this was an earthquake we'd have to deal the Muni underground and BART. This already has a nightmarish aspect to it." She looked up at the night sky lit up with its deadly illumination.  
  
Tasha's radio came to life with much heavy static. 'Great, this is perfect night for a communications catastrophe'. She switched to another channel.  
  
"This is Coast Guard Onsite Amaya Charleton calling Police and Fire Onsites. Come in. Over."  
  
Sipea and Tasha looked at each other and grinned. 'Hey, now, this might not be as horrific as it could be. The Triumvirate is on the J-O-B.'  
  
"This is Onsite Gibson. Status. Over."  
  
"Hey, ladies." Amaya looked at her handheld. "We've shut down the all operations at the Port and moved everything to Pier 41. Since we're there we can co-op the services of the Blue and Gold Fleet. However, we're still rounding up commuters" She sighed. "I've got to pull some schedules together for the uplink and...."  
  
The others could hear muffled sounds and looked at Tasha's radio. "Excuse me, sir. You need to clear this area. You and your friend can't be here. As you can see there's an emergency going on and we near to clear the area."  
  
More muffled sounds. "Excuse me? Eff me? Tasha and Sipea could hear the menace in Amaya's voice. "Me? Not on a good day."  
  
"You know, whoever that is is definitely looking for a trip to the ER," laughed Sipea. They both shook their heads and continued to listen.  
  
"Look, fool, you need to get your effin' ass out of here so everyone can do their jobs. I don't care about you getting a video for the news. Do I look like care? Are you a professional broadcaster? Well? Huh! I didn't think so. You need to move along and...." She felt her pager going off. She opened it, looked at the screen sighed and snapped the cover shut. 'Shit. Can this get any worse so early?' She looked at the two men in front of her, then looked around. 'Ah ha!'  
  
"Jonas!" she yelled. A 6'6", 286 lb man with lots of muscle definition turned around. She waved him over.  
  
"Yea? What's up?"  
  
Amaya turned her million watt smile on the man. "Darlin', could you help these gentlemen find their way to safety? We don't want any civilians injured if we can help it."  
  
Jonas looked at her and winked. "Sure. Right this way, gentlemen." He started off, then turned halfway around and said, "I'm just going to drop them off with one of those nice police officers over there directing people." He proceeded to herd the recalcitrant men in the proper direction.  
  
"Thank you, darlin' and hurry back. I've got duty assignments up now." Amaya turned her attention back to her radio.  
  
"Well, ladies, that will probably be our only laugh for the evening. I've got duty rosters, still got those schedule uplinks and updates, and to make my day complete, I just got a page from the Mayor's office." She sighed again. "Catch you wimmens later."  
  
"See you." "Later." Amaya turned off her radio and proceeded to dictate her coordinating information into her handheld.  
  
Sipea and Tasha had also gone their separate ways to deal with their department and the city's needs.  
  
It was now 6:15 pm. Sipea had finished coordinating all the stations and their equipment and personnel.  
  
It was slow and hard going. All fire and emergency vehicles were moving at max capacity, but it still seemed like they weren't making any headway.  
  
Just as they seemed to begin to get a handle on the situation, the wind shifted. "Fall back and look out! Oh no, look over there!" Following the direction the voice indicated, the firefighters saw that chunks of fiery debris from the dock had blown over to land on several of the palm trees lining the transit islands for the streetcars. "The trees are going up!" Several hoses were turned to deal with this new situation.  
  
Sipea's communications device went off. "Onsite, just to let you know, we now have the beginnings of a fire on the dock of Pier 33 due to the wind shift and debris is landing here. Do you copy? Over."  
  
Sighing, she replied into the relay. "Onsite here. Copy that." There was a small beep in her hear. "Stand by." She activated the second signal and wished she hadn't.  
  
"Good evening, Ronn. Is there something I can help you with? I am in the middle of an emergency here."  
  
"The mayor, my boss and yours for that matter, wants a status report," snapped the press secretary.  
  
"We're still putting the fire out. You know how long these can take. Weather conditions are not prime and it's slow going. Also, there might be a new problem on Pier 33. I was just about to deal with that when you called," she said.  
  
"The mayor wants to know why he's getting better info on the news channels than from his own people."  
  
"I have no idea, Ronn. The wind is too strong for a media helicopter and the camera trucks are on the other side of the transit island. I have no idea how he's getting better information from the news media. They get what I give them and I have no idea why the mayor is seeing anything different that what I'm seeing on my portable pocket television." She continued to process new assignments. "So, having said that, I don't feel like getting involved with your political madness. Once we have something concrete, I'll get back to you. And no, I cannot tell you when the fire will be out. Now, I have working personnel on my other line," and she pressed the button to go back to her original conversation.  
  
"Stand by for new reshift assignments coming through.now!" Feeling a migraine coming on, she dug down in her jacket pocket and found her bottle of Advil. She popped four and continued shifting her personnel while waiting for the pain to subside. 'At least, we got the area cleared of traffic.' She got to work coordinating reports from the police and Coast Guard and turning them into updates and newslinks.  
  
She looked at her watch and noticed it was 7 pm.  
  
The fire had progressed. Now the docks and their structures at both Piers 33 and 35 were ablaze, and the fire at Pier 35 was truly out of control due to another wind shift. She meandered over to a hook and ladder and sat down on the runner. She was tired, wet and cold. 'You know, you'd think that with all this rain, we'd catch a break and could put this out quickly, but we can't; it's chemical and the wind's not helping. We need to smother that fire.  
  
She laughed to herself. 'Sounds easy, doesn't it? Unfortunately, budget cuts don't make it so. We need Dicetyline.' She sighed. 'But that stuff needs to requisitioned in advance. Like we knew we'd need it. God, I hate budget analysts.'  
  
She looked up and caught the fire chief's eye. He beckoned her over. She nodded and indicated she be there in a minute. It was now 8 pm.  
  
The chief looked just as exhausted as she felt. "Yes, Chief?"  
  
"I need a overall status report." She proceeded to update him on all the balls in motion. He nodded and several times had her redirect assignments.  
  
Upon completion of all this, he looked at her and she said, "It can't be done, sir. I checked. There isn't enough, the requisition takes too long, it's after hours and even if we found some out of the city, it would still take too long to get here."  
  
"We need Dicetyline," sighed the chief.  
  
"I've heard there's supposed to be a new intensively concentrated version either out or coming out, but no one seems to know much about it," Sipea said.  
  
"I think we should put in a call in to International Rescue," mused the Chief.  
  
"Really sir? Well, forgive me for playing devil's advocate, but if you do, and I know you will, be ready to sidestep the mayor. You know he'll try to get a photo op or something and I hear that's not what they're about." They both looked at each other and smiled.  
  
"I'll try using the satellite link."  
  
"Okay, Chief."  
  
"San Francisco Fire Chief James Preston calling International Rescue. San Francisco Fire Chief James Preston calling International Rescue. Come in, International Rescue."  
  
Sipea walked away ostensibly to continue her coordinating and monitoring. 'While he's doing that, I need to make a call of my own.'  
  
She activated her headset. "Dina."  
  
"Ya, girly?"  
  
It was 8:30 pm. 


End file.
